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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25197658">empty nest syndrome (at least until the bird is back)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceCasch/pseuds/AliceCasch'>AliceCasch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Protective Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 09:33:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,403</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25197658</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceCasch/pseuds/AliceCasch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He can’t help but think about Peter. He wonders how he’s doing, if he’s missing him, if he’s having fun. The ache suddenly becomes too strong. Tony feels like someone just punched him in the gut.</p>
<p>"FRIDAY, call Peter", Tony whispers, voice hoarse.</p>
<p>The phone rings. He glances at his watch. It’s a little after eleven, the kid should be awake. It rings again. The man feels a chill go down his spine. <em>It’s alright</em> he thinks, <em>Pete’s probably sleeping</em>. The phone rings a third time. Tony feels his throat tighten with panic.<br/>***<br/>or, Tony misses his kid. He goes to check on him. Something is wrong.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>May Parker (Spider-Man) &amp; Tony Stark, Ned Leeds &amp; Peter Parker, Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>180</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Friendly Neighborhood Exchange</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>empty nest syndrome (at least until the bird is back)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/notapartytrick/gifts">notapartytrick</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p></p><div class="google-footer-bar"><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="footer content clearfix"><p>He first looks it up when he’s in college. According to the first psychology book he finds in the hall, <em>empty nest syndrome refers to the grief, depression, and loneliness that some parents feel after their children have moved out of the house</em>. He remembers his eyes skimming over the page in a drunken haze, not even sure how he got there in the first place. He remembers laughing and telling an equally intoxicated Rhodey that he’d never suffer from that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Well</em>, a fifty-year-old Tony Stark thinks as he takes another sip of his drink, <em>turns out that was a load of bullshit</em>. The genius is pretty sure that he and the lovely Ms Parker in front of him are the textbook definition of empty nest syndrome, getting fashionably tipsy while they bawl over their kid who’s living his best life 200-something miles away from them. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I miss him,” May says, clumsily tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“We all do,” Tony sniffles. After a bit, he snorts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>May eyes him, suspicious. “Are you already <em>that</em> wasted?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, no, it’s just...” Tony waves his hand around, nearly knocking the wine bottle off the table, “We’re talking about him like he’s dead. He’s <em>not</em> dead.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He isn’t,” May agrees.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony’s face lights up, and the woman sighs. “Oh, dear. He’s had an idea. May heaven help us all,” she mutters.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony doesn’t hear her. “What if we pay him a visit?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No, Tony.” May’s answer is final. The man deflates, but he doesn’t give up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“May, my dear, sweet May—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Flattery won’t get you anywhere.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“—tomorrow is the last day before Christmas break. It’s not like we’d make him homesick.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s almost Christmas break, exactly. We can survive without seeing him for a few hours.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Speak for yourself,” Tony grumbles. Just because he knows May’s right doesn’t mean he likes what she just said. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And anyway, we don’t want to be…” May pauses with her glass to her lips, searching for the right word.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Overbearing helicopter parents?” Tony suggests.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Exactly. So,” May concludes, “we’ll just drown our woes in alcohol. You’ll go back to Pepper, I’ll fall asleep on the couch and we’ll both deal with our massive hangovers in the morning.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Massive hangovers? We’ve just had a couple glasses.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>May stares at him. Tony admits, defeated, “Okay, maybe a few more than a couple.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The woman gives him a knowing smile and raises her glass. “To our kid, Stark.”</p><hr/>
<p>Tony doesn’t really know how much time has passed when he finally gets in the car. His head is thumping and he takes a moment to rest it on the steering wheel, gently covering his ears with his hands. Then, he throws a peace sign in May’s direction, hoping that it will convey the words he’s too tired to say. <em>I’m okay. I’ll get home safely. Thank you.</em> Apparently, it does; the woman smiles, satisfied, and for a second her brown eyes glimmer in the night. After that, she’s gone. Tony groans; it seems like he can’t handle alcohol as well as he thinks. But that’s a problem for another day. The man rubs at his eye. He blinks and looks around. The trees and the lights shine like stars in the night, and for a second Tony isn’t in his car. He’s an astronaut and he’s floating right through them, happy, careless, free. But then a hand tugs at his gloved fingers. The astronaut looks around; a kid is looking at him, smiling. A few curls fall into his wide, brown eyes. <em>Peter</em>. Tony hears a honk, he feels the leather of the car seat beneath him. He can still taste the wine in his mouth; it’s strange, almost bittersweet. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“FRIDAY, autopilot,” he says groggily.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Certainly, Boss.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And of course, now that he can doze off, he doesn’t feel the need to anymore. He can’t help but think about Peter. He wonders how he’s doing, if he’s missing him, if he’s having fun. The ache suddenly becomes too strong. Tony feels like someone just punched him in the gut. His eyes sting and he feels a tear fall. He barely tastes the salt before wiping it away. It’s no use; the tears just keep pouring. He’s crying and he feels almost profane, breaking the quiet of the night with his sobs. He’s not even sure <em>why</em> he’s sobbing, but maybe this time he doesn’t need a reason; maybe he’s doing it just because he can. He blames it on the alcohol. Alcohol has always made him emotional.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“FRIDAY, call Peter,” Tony whispers, voice hoarse.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The phone rings. He glances at his watch. It’s a little after eleven, the kid should be awake. It rings again. The man feels a chill go down his spine. <em>It’s alright</em>, he thinks, <em>Pete’s probably sleeping.</em> The phone rings a third time. Tony feels his throat tighten with panic. Then, he hears a click. Relief washes over him like a pleasant balm.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Kid?” he says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There’s silence on the other end of the line. A shuffling noise. Tony hears someone swear under their breath. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Pete?” he calls, a little louder this time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Uh, hi, Mr Stark.” It’s not Peter, Tony thinks. He probably says it out loud, because whoever’s on the phone with him answers, “No, I’m not Peter. I’m— I’m Ned.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony curses himself for not recognizing the voice. “Hey, Ned. How are you?” he asks, even if his mind is screaming at him to cut the pleasantries and talk to Peter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m good, yeah, I’m good,” Ned answers, and his nerves are evident through the phone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony doesn’t think much of it. Ned must be tired, or maybe he’s still having a moment of <em>holy shit I’m talking with Tony Stark</em>, like when he was younger. Instead, the man asks, “Can I talk to Pete?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No!” Ned answers immediately, almost shouting. A pause. “I mean, no, you can’t because he’s...he’s sleeping.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony knows what he’s about to ask is terribly selfish. Hates himself for asking it. Still, he can’t help it. He <em>needs</em> to hear Peter’s voice. “Can you wake him up, please?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Silence. “Ned? You still there?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, Mr Stark, sorry. Yes, I’ll wake him up. Just...gimme a second. I’ll put you on hold.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony waits. The hold music on Peter’s phone is quite catchy, and the man finds himself humming it. A few minutes pass. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mis’ser Stark?” Peter says, sluggish, and Tony hears heavenly choirs sing. He swears it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hello, kid.” He’s smiling that soft smile Pepper likes so much. It’s a smile that exudes love and care from every corner and crinkle and dimple. Some would even say it’s the smile a father gives his child. “How’s it going?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Good, good,” Peter yawns. Tony feels guilt crawl back into him, a thousand little scorpions slithering on his bones and stinging him everywhere.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Alright, I won’t keep you up. See you in two days.” The man bites his lip, hoping that the pain will distract him from the ache settled in his stomach. It doesn’t.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” the teen answers. Neither of them says <em>I love you</em>, but it’s heard loud and clear. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony lingers before hanging up, listening to his kid’s breathing. The thing is, he doesn’t hear just that. It’s a whisper. He can barely pick it up, but he’s sure Ned’s saying, “You were amazing, dude.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The line goes dead.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony keeps his eyes on the road and his hands on the steering wheel even though he isn’t driving. He supposes he should be calmer, but what Ned said doesn’t feel right. <em>You were amazing, dude. You were amazing, dude. You were amazing. Amazing. Amazing</em>. The word repeats itself in Tony’s mind like a broken record. He whispers it out loud until it doesn’t make sense anymore. They’re just letters. Meaningless letters. Meaningless letters that make his heart beat faster than war drums. Tony makes a split decision. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“FRIDAY, stop the car.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> His fists are clenched and his fingernails dig deep into his palms, making them bleed. The sharp pain grounds him. He gets out and slaps his wrist, feeling the nanotech suit wrap around him. He fiddles with the interface, sending the car home. The thrusters finally fire up. Tony shoots a quick text to Pepper. <em>Will be home late. I’ve gotta check on the kid. Love you.</em> </p><hr/>
<p>It’s ten past midnight when he finally gets to campus. He hopes it’s not too late, and he banishes that thought as soon as he’s formed it. Too late for what? Tony damns his anxiety and all the gruesome scenarios it manages to create in his mind. Sometimes, it feels like one of those Boggarts from Harry Potter. He just wishes he could cast a <em>riddikulus</em> and transform them in hilarious skits. He’s running across the grass now, and he prays nobody sees him. He can already read the headlines. <em>Tony Stark at MIT: craving the olden days?</em> Tony shakes his head and starts reading the room numbers. <em>411, 412, 413, 414...</em>he remembers Peter’s laugh when he discovered that his was dorm 420. He muttered <em>Mary, is that a </em>police<em>! I’m calling the weed</em> for a week straight, and the phrase is still stuck in Tony’s head. The thought of Pepper’s scandalised face when he had a slip-up at dinner often makes the man laugh at very inappropriate times. Lost in his thoughts, Tony almost passes dorm 420. He tries to look through the windows. From what he can see, both boys are sleeping soundly. He notices that Peter’s bedsheets are red; he must’ve changed them sometime after the beginning of the term, Tony thinks. He doesn’t remember the kid mentioning it, but then again, he wouldn’t have thought of it as an interesting detail, either. Tony knows he must look like a stalker, peering in a dorm room. Right now, he doesn’t care. He still has a weird feeling but he ignores it because he saw, Peter is okay, there’s nothing to worry about. He’s turning around when a pair of eyes blink. He stops.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony hears rustling, someone getting up. The door opens.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Mr Stark?” Ned says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hi again, Ned. I was just checking some—” Tony stops. There’s a stale smell in the room, almost like...“blood?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The teen lets out a sheepish chuckle. “Yeah, Peter and I did a bio project and…”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ned keeps talking, but Tony doesn’t hear. Something has clicked in his head. <em>You were amazing.</em> The smell of blood. Peter’s crimson bedsheets. The pieces fit like a horrible puzzle. Tony starts shaking, fear settling deep in his bones. His palms are sweating. Different images flash before his eyes. Peter, in the bed, bleeding out with no one to comfort him. Peter, having life slowly sucked out of him as he calls for May. Peter taking his last breath in a bunk bed. Tony sees the newspaper, a picture of him and of the kid’s lifeless body. He pictures himself in a suit and tie and dress shoes and he sees himself lower a casket in the ground. He sees May’s eyes, cold and unforgiving, and he hears her whisper brokenly, “You said he wasn’t dead.” All of this blurs the edges of the room, and Tony is trapped. He’s trapped in his worst nightmare and nobody can help, he can’t breathe, he opens his mouth and there’s no sound (he’s in Afghanistan again and this time they’re going to drown him and there’ll be no Yinsen to help him and he still hasn’t told Peter he loves him and he hasn’t given Pepper the life she deserves and he hasn’t thanked Rhodey and he’s wasted his life because he’s going to <em>die</em> and he hasn’t done enough for the people he loves and—) </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony’s eyes set on the crimson bed. He breathes. He can see the room. He’s not going to die, not when Peter needs him. He shoves Ned aside and runs to the bed. Tony tears the comforter away, hoping, praying that it’s not what he thinks it is, ready to do <em>anything</em>. He freezes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sees the teen’s chest rise and fall, can feel the slight prickle of his breath on his skin, and Tony lets out a small laugh, full of relief, because Peter’s there and breathing and alive.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Peter,” he says, “kid, Pete. <em>Peter</em>.” He shakes him by the shoulder. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s not waking up. Tony can feel the panic rise again, so he sends a mental apology to Peter and he slaps him. Hard. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The teen’s eyes snap open. When he recognizes the person in front of him they fill with dread. “Mister Stark?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Hello, Underoos.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Did you just <em>slap</em> me?” Peter asks, almost betrayed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You weren’t waking up. Now,” he says, masking his worry with snark, “care to explain why you’re literally bleeding out in your own bed?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Oh. <em>That</em>, Peter thinks. He winces. “I was making dinner and the knife slipped.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And you couldn’t go to the nurse to get stitches?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It was late. I didn’t wanna inconvenience her. Besides, Ned stitched me up.” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I see,” says Tony. He turns and notices that Ned is burning holes in Peter’s skull. “Are you gonna tell me the real reason or do I have to guess?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Peter stalls. “I told you, I—”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“He got stabbed,” Ned says, maybe as revenge. “We were coming home from a party and we heard screams. Peter went to see if he could help, but he didn’t have the suit and the other guy had a knife. Pete gave the kid his bag back, but he also...got stabbed? It’s not that bad, it didn’t slice the femoral artery. We just haven’t cleaned up the bed yet. I promise, his stitches are sterile!” He’s wringing his hands, clearly nervous. Tony feels a surge of affection for the boy. He had stitched his friend up and potentially saved his life. And all of this at night, apparently.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Okay. Mr Heroic and I better get going.” He says, “Thank you, Ned. For everything. I’m sorry that I shoved you earlier.” He bends to Peter’s ear and whispers, “Can you stand?” Tony’s heart swells with pride as the teen nods, determined. Together, the two walk to the door. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Ned,” Peter says, “Merry Christmas.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“And,” Tony adds, “don’t hide things like this from me ever again, Ned.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ned laughs. They both know it’s impossible. It’s part of the Guy in the Chair’s job, after all. And Ned is the best at it. </p><hr/>
<p>Peter faints twice on the way to Stark Tower, and it takes everything in Tony to stay calm enough to avoid dropping him. The man knows he'll never forget the way Peter's body goes limp in his arms. While Peter is unconscious, he allows himself small moments of weakness.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He screams into the void. <em>The astronaut frowns, and the kid's expression becomes panicked. He pales, the cold grip of Death freezing the terror in his eyes forever in place. The astronaut lets go and the two separate like magnets. The astronaut hurts, and the stars bleed with him.</em> He cries after stopping the bleeding with a piece of his sweatshirt that soon becomes scarlet and warm and heavy and <em>that's his kid's blood covering it, covering his hands</em> and he hates it; hates the way he's depending on it like a lifeline; hates that it's his only option. <em>He should have done better.</em> He curses himself in every language he knows for not having noticed the pale sheen on his kid's face and having lost time in empty chatter instead. He pleads to whoever's up there to keep the boy alive, not for him but for his aunt, for Ned and MJ, for Pepper and Happy and Rhodey and all the people Peter has ever spoken to, because if there's one thing Tony's sure of, it's that everyone would miss him. Whenever the kid gazes at him with that faraway look<em> (it feels wrong it feels wrong it feels wrong)</em> Tony tightens his grip and manages a smile. He wishes that he could go faster, faster, faster, but he knows that no matter how many upgrades he adds, it'll never be fast enough. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>They arrive at the Tower and a part of Tony wants to drop dead on the street and lay there, just for a few minutes. He indulges in that fantasy for exactly half a second, then he pushes it away and grits his teeth. Resting is a luxury he cannot afford right now (or ever, a voice in him says). Tony runs to the MedBay, trying to ignore the clock he feels ticking. He lowers Peter on a cot, and the gentleness in his movements is odd in a place where being slow or even too gentle costs lives. He knows that he needs to redo Peter's stitches, and he prays that the kid stays unconscious for a little longer. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>At this point, he's not even surprised when Peter opens his eyes. "<em>Tony</em>," he mumbles, and the man's heart breaks. He takes a deep breath, leaving a caress on the kid's cheek.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Pete, the stitches have to be redone. I'll call Doctor Cho."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No." Peter doesn't shout, but his refusal leaves Tony so speechless that he might as well have. "It's late, don't wake her up because of me."</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>My stupid, selfless, kind, brave kid,</em> Tony thinks. Despite everything, his lips curl up to form a soft smile. "I'll do it then," he says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Peter hums. "I trust you."</p><hr/>
<p>Tony's hand shakes as he lets the needle fall into the bin. "We're done, bud."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Peter wipes a tear they both pretend not to see. Tony didn't have the anaesthesia for his enhanced metabolism on hand and the teen refused to let him go get it, saying that it would have been easier to just stitch him up. Tony didn't argue. "You wanna sleep?" he asks now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Can we watch a movie?" Peter says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Sure," Tony answers. He thinks he knows what the kid wants to watch. He has known him for four years now, and he has learnt Peter's preferences. When the kid is sad he watches Disney movies because he can 'cry along while also feeling coddled' (Peter's words, not his). When he's mad he puts on tragic movies, like <em>Titanic</em>, and there are two possible outcomes: one, the anger gets overpowered by the sadness and it passes, or two, the kid gets mad at the protagonists for being "so damn stupid, Mr Stark!" and he forgets why he was angry in the first place. When he's happy he usually starts musicals so that he can sing his heart out and have fun replicating the choreographies. When he's tired, he prefers movies he's already seen, so that he can doze off and still know what's going on.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tony pulls up <em>The Greatest Showman</em> and he thinks that judging by Peter's smile, he's made the right choice. He doesn't know when he ends up on the cot with Peter, or why the kid's head is now on his lap, or how that is a comfortable position, but he doesn't complain either. Peter falls asleep mumbling lyrics to “A Million Dreams.” It's so <em>him</em> that it hurts, almost. Tony keeps watching, volume to the minimum. He's barely awake when Charity Burbage says, "<em>you don't need everyone to love you. Just a few, good people.</em>" His gaze falls to the boy in his lap, and he thinks that Charity had it right from the beginning. Peter, Rhodey, Happy, May, Pepper, they're the good people. Tony cards his hand through Peter's curls, gently loosening every knot he finds. He knows that he loves them. And as long as they’ll love him, all will be well.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Pepper finds them both in the morning. She has read Tony’s message and she isn’t particularly worried when she wakes up to his side of the bed empty, but she goes to the MedBay to check on him regardless. The scene before her eyes is not uncommon (she and Tony often joke that the kid is a particularly loving, mutated species of Spider-Leech); her heart always melts a little, though, and this time is no different. Quietly smiling to herself, the woman snaps a picture. She sends it to May with the caption, <em>the bird is back in his nest.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p></div></div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Huge thanks to @CoupDeFruita for beta reading!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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